


A Sort of Homecoming

by whopooh



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: April quote, F/M, Family, Gen, MFMM Year of Quotes, journeys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 07:34:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14444460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whopooh/pseuds/whopooh
Summary: Phryne flies her father home to England. None of them knows what will happen when they finally get there.This is for the April quote challenge - I decided I needed to write it about Henry Fisher!





	A Sort of Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> For the quote:
> 
> “Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.”  
> – _A Hat Full of Sky_ , Terry Pratchett

He knew he hadn’t been the best of fathers – of course he did. He had lived a life not examining his actions or how they affected others, but of course he _knew_. He just didn’t see that as something he could change, even if he wanted to. 

Henry watched his daughter as she approached him – raven-coloured bob half hidden under her blue hat with a jaunty feather in it, posture straight, eyes piercing. She sat down next to him on the bench outside the planetarium. She was impeccably dressed in a blue outfit while his face was half covered in blood.

“Why did you hide Eugene from us?” she asked. 

Phryne usually had a specific tone in her voice when she spoke with him – sharp, as if she was cutting glass with every syllable rolling from her tongue. With her friends she was warm, attentive, and humorous. With suspects, she had such a precise mixture of care and curiosity. It was only with him she couldn’t keep her balance, her composure. The angry Phryne he had come to know so well during her adolescent years peeked through every crack in that beautiful adult face – cracks only he seemed to be able to cause. 

In this moment, though, there was a layer of softness over her angry edges. 

He tried to explain – about his cousin, and the blackmail. How the problem had seemed small at first, and then had escalated out of hand. How he couldn’t tell her mother, taking away the one thing that made her secure in her life after Janey’s death; their financial security. How he had been a coward, and a fool – he didn’t say those last things, but he was sure she supplied them in her head.

He knew there was no explanation that could truly satisfied her. He had made too many bad choices, told too many lies, kept secrets instead of asking for help – she would never trust him as long as he lived. He saw her reactions as he spoke, the way she evaluated every word he said, suspicious of his motives and the details he gave. This was the girl he’d seen grown up. The woman she’d grown into, without particularly much help from him.

Usually, he dismissed all his troubles as temporary nonsense. Sitting here and explaining himself, he felt like a balloon that had lost all its air. It was a long time since he had decided to never take anything seriously, to keep up his light-heartedness no matter what happened around him, no matter if it hurt his children or his wife. He was the vivacious, eccentric, and bloody-minded Baron of Richmond. Anything else, he kept hidden. From everyone.

“It's all too late,” he told his daughter. “When she meets my ship, I won't be there, and our marriage will be over.” He sounded defeated, he knew that. It seemed he couldn’t keep his emotions hidden. Not now, after almost having been killed, and after having disappointed his daughter so thoroughly. Again.

“Is that what you want?” Phryne’s voice was exact, poking. She was applying all her interrogation skills to him. 

“Oh, God! No, Phryne," he said, incredulous she could even think that. "Your mother... is the love of my life. I never wanted anyone else.”

His voice wavered as he said it. It was true. For all his careless life, gambling and rumbling and flirting with other women, this was the truth, and he knew she understood that. She was as much of an expert in flirting as he was. And judging from what he’d seen pass between her and that grey policeman, she might know something about love too.

Phryne’s eyes lingered at him, sizing him up.

“Well, then, you’d better pack your bags tonight,” she said. “We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

He protested at that – it was all too late. His ship had sailed, in every sense of the word.

“There are other ways to travel,” she answered pointedly, and he immediately caught her meaning. He gulped. Not flying! Not in that kind of small aeroplane she loved to steer! He was utterly terrified of that; he hated the way there was only a few centimetres between him and certain death. But his protests didn’t move her in the least.

“Good,” she said coolly, before rising to leave, “then you can suffer for love.”

As she walked away, he sat there for a while, staring before him. Of course she wouldn’t make it easy for him. Fair enough, he supposed. She usually didn’t do anything he didn’t deserve.

She hadn’t always resented him. There had been a time when he’d been her favourite. For the young Phryne, he had been a hero. She had followed him around, learning the tricks he’d picked up as a mischievous, poor, and not always completely honest young lad. She had a real knack for lock-picking, and she learned the tricks of poker from watching him gamble with his friends. She was bright, understanding things far above her age. 

That was before he turned more severely into drinking and became more unpredictable; punishing her for the cheek he’d earlier awarded, locking her into a cupboard when she was too rebellious. She had resented him then and used his skills against him – finding out how to break out of that cupboard, punishing him by hiding his bottles.

Phryne was his oldest, and she had been such an amusing child, with so many ideas – too many ideas, Henry thought. Janey was just like her mother – kind, curious, believing the best of everyone she met – which made her all the dearer to him. Phryne was more complicated, not as easy to love – in many ways far too alike himself. She had always had edges; losing Janey had only enhanced that. His attempts to bend her to his will and smooth those edges out had not been very successful. 

She’d been too clever for her own good, Henry had always thought. But it seemed the world was changing, growing to accept that kind of woman nowadays. Phryne had certainly found a spot where her way of being was an asset. When he saw her now – excelling in her detective business, commanding her household, saving his life, and having two young people bringing their wedding forward in time just so she could be there for it – he finally realised that. 

 

***

 

It had taken a little more than three weeks, with a couple of unforeseen breaks on the way. One time when Henry said he couldn’t stand another full day of flight but would rather jump into the ocean and have it over with. Another time when they needed to wait for the weather to clear up over the Indian ocean. 

After a few days seized by terror – his fear of heights easily measured up to Phryne’s arachnophobia – Henry had managed to relax and give in to the rhythm of travel. In the evenings, Phryne would either say she couldn’t stand to see him and demanded they eat at different restaurants, or they would eat together, sometimes even rather enjoying the conversation. 

Now it was Phryne showing him her tricks; the pupil had outgrown the master. She could get by in several languages, and she had an excellent nose for spotting both the best restaurants and trouble. 

23 days after their departure, they landed on British soil. 

When they arrived at the Fisher townhouse in London some hours later, Margaret was awaiting them – tall and slender, her hair almost the same colour as Phryne’s, but with grey streaks giving her an even more pronounced bearing. 

“Mother,” Phryne said, giving her small luggage to the butler, and taking her mother in. After a pause she strode towards her and kissed her on both cheeks before giving her a long hug.

“Phrynekins. Darling,” her mother mumbled into her hair, her voice trembling slightly. “I wondered if I would never see you again.”

“Oh come, mother, enough with the melodrama,” Phryne said, but her voice was soft. She hadn’t been sure herself if she’d ever go back to Europe, but there was no need to say that.

Margaret Fisher looked at her daughter and gave her a lingering kiss on the forehead, leaving a red mark from her lipstick.

“I’m so happy you are here, darling,” she said.

“Also, I brought you someone,” Phryne said, dryly. “He wasn’t the bravest of travel companions, but he wasn’t too bad.”

Henry let out a huff.

“I was an excellent travel companion. I didn’t even complain when you took unnecessary risks.”

“You complained plenty, father,” she answered.

Margaret turned to her husband.

“Henry,” she said. They stood tentatively in the hall, neither of them moving closer. “You didn’t come with your ship.”

“I missed it,” he said. “But it still wouldn’t land until next week.”

“You said you were going to London.” 

Her gaze was questioning, evaluating him. He lowered his eyes before meeting hers.

“I didn’t tell the truth.”

Margaret didn’t move a muscle.

“Prudence wrote me about cousin Eugene.”

Henry nodded.

“She wrote me about what he did to you all. Binding them to chairs, threatening their lives. Cutting you.”

Henry simply nodded, again. 

“I should have confided in you, Peg. I should never have kept him secret. I thought I could handle him by myself,” he said. “Can you forgive me?” 

She tilted her head at him, pondering his question. 

She was so beautiful. He had always thought that, ever since he laid his eyes on her when they were young in Melbourne, and then when he brought her to the dances at the Grand. But it struck him anew now, when he hadn’t seen her for months. Her eyes, piercing like Phryne’s, but with a more worried and tired expression. Her full, slightly smiling mouth, deeply red. Her expressive hands, gesturing whenever she talked, but now still like the rest of her. 

She was the kindest woman he could imagine, and for some reason she seemed to enjoy his antics and his jokes, usually ready to forgive more than she really ought to. Would she also this time? He couldn’t imagine his life without her presence – her indulgence, her admiration, the strength of character she had and that he lacked so sorely himself.

“I only brought him because I thought you really wanted him back, mother. Just say the word and I’ll kick him out.”

“Phryne!” her mother exclaimed, slightly scandalised. “Of course I don’t want you to kick him out.”

“It’s your choice, mother,” she answered. “This is all for you.”

Margaret’s words had made Henry take a few steps closer, and he stopped in front of her, taking her hands in his, squeezing them. He felt as nervous as he had when they were young and he did this for the first time. When she didn’t withdraw, he pulled slightly to make her come closer, and he took her in his arms and kissed her. She smiled into the kiss, and Henry’s beating heart settled slightly. He was still hers; she was still his. There was a chance they could manage this. 

“I won’t promise to be the perfect husband,” he said. “I know that’s impossible.” Margaret laughed. He knew it was uncharacteristic, this attempt at honesty, but he was trying. No castles in the sky this time. No evasions. Just himself. “But I promise I won’t keep things away from you ever again.” 

“And…” Phryne said pointedly from the side.

“And I will not gamble and drink like before,” he continued. “I didn’t gamble as much as you think, Phryne,” he added, turning half to his daughter. “That was to cover up for the money I gave Eugene.”

Phryne rolled her eyes, obviously not convinced.

“I’ll get a consultant to help manage the economy,” he said. When Phryne coughed, he amended. “ _Phryne_ will get a consultant. And I won’t protest.” He looked at his wife, his eyes tearing up at the sight of her. “When I make a mess, I’ll stop trying to make excuses for my bad behaviour,” he concluded. “I’ve missed you, Peg. Can I come in?”

Margaret seemed to realise they were still in the hallway.

“Come in, Henry,” she said. “I’ve missed you too.” She took a step back to let him pass, asking the butler to serve him tea and sandwiches. 

Then she turned to her daughter – still in flying clothes, her hair slightly messy but the bob framing her face beautifully, the red mark from Margaret’s lips on her forehead matching her own lipstick almost completely. She took a step towards her daughter and smoothed down her wayward hair.

“I know you’re worried, Phryne, but we’ll be fine,” she said. “We’ll do the best we can.” 

Phryne didn’t look completely at ease, but she’d lost some of the strain in her expression now that her father was gone. She gave her mother a small smile. 

“I think you should go to your room and freshen up,” Margaret continued. “There’s already been two telegrams and a couple of letters for you.” 

She paused briefly, noticing the flicker of expectation in her daughter’s eyes. 

“You must have left someone important in Melbourne.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Fire_Sign for betaing this!  
> And thank you TVDetectives who, when I was struggling for a title, lent me the title of her (netflix available) film.


End file.
